LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



@^nit.- Sojnjrig^l !f a. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



PHILOCTETES 



AND OTHER 



POEMS AND SONNETS 



/BV 

J^Er'NESMITH 




CAMBRIDGE 
JJrinteHi at tjje Ei^crfiiUe JJrefig 

1894 






CopjTight, 1894, 
By J. E. NESMITH. 

A21 rights reserved. 



The Biverside Press, Cambridge, 3fass., U.S. A. 
Electxotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton and Company. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

SONNETS. 

Fortune 3 

" The Yoke of Conscience " . . . .4 

Conscience 5 

Hope . 6 

"That Twice-Battered God of Pales- 
tine " '7 

Patience ....•••• 8 

"Backed with Resolution" ... 9 

Melancholia 10 

Subtle Spring 11 

Fortune's Injustice 12 

The Statue of Lorenzo de' Medici . 13 

Cesar 14 

The Mediterranean Sea .... 15 

Rome 10 

Voiceless Victory 17 

Counterfeits 18 

Proteus 19 

Ideals 20 

Natura Maligna 21 

White Squalls 22 

Carpe Diem 23 

" The Ape and Tiger " . . . . .24 

Tragedy and Song 25 

Gates of Pearl 26 



IV CONTENTS. 

" Black Vespek's Pageants " ... 27 

The Eagle 28 

Ultima Thule 29 

Vain Cowardice 30 

" Quem tu Melpomene " . . . . 31 
" Fresh Woods and Pastures New " . .32 

To-Day's Sceptre 33 

Life's Banquet Hall 34 

The World well Lost .... 35 

Philoctetes 35 

" Dusted Velvets "..... 37 

The Sentinel of Acre 38 

Barren Labor 39 

Lost Legions 40 

Fate 41 

Life in Captivity 42 

"In Shackles Tired" .... 43 

Time's Perfidy 44 

Vain Resistance 45 

PHILOCTETES AT LEMNOS. 

Philoctetes at Lemnos 49 

The Grand Canon of the Colorado 

River g2 

Napoleon in Russia 72 

Hymn of Nature 78 

Shifting Freight at Midnight . . .83 

Epigrams 86 

LATER SONNETS. 

La Perouse 9I 

Figures in the Rain 92 

"The Chronicle of Wasted Time" . . 93 

Solitude 94 

Wished-for Change 95 

The Invitation .... Qfi 



CONTENTS. 


V 


Embattled Days 


. 97 


" Malign Vicissitude "... 


98 


Tragic Power 


, 99 


Ulysses . 


. 100 


Nightfall at Potter's 


. 101 


A Storm in the Mountains 


. 102 


Point Subtjme, Colorado Canon 


. 108 


Mountain Landscape .... 


. 105 


MOONRISE ON THE RiVER 


. 106 


The First Thaw in Spring 


. 107 


The Day's Message 


. 108 


The Soul's Decadence 


. 109 


Life in the World 


. 110 


Prometheus 


. Ill 



SONNETS. 



SONNETS. 



FORTUNE. 

What strength in gods or men that shall delay 
Imperial Fortune and her destinies, 
Her progress thro' the stormy centuries ? 
Her step is forth, and now she 's far away 
Upon the mountains welcoming the day, 
Outstripping Genius and her faculties : 
The tempest speeds her golden argosies, 
She whispers to the winds and they obey : 
Deserting kings for nondescripts and clowns, 
The idol of obsequious History, 
Inconstant even to inconstancy. 
And cloaking thieves and fools in costly gowns, 
Her hands are fill'd with wreaths and glittering 

crowns, — 
With sceptres and with swords of victory. 



SONNETS. 



"THE YOKE OF CONSCIENCE." 

Conscience has neither rank, nor place, nor 

lands ; 
No bribe, temptation, amulet, or gold ; 
But crown'd and girt with terrors manifold 
She grasps the soul with strong and naked hands ; 
Her stern, strict sceptre and austere commands 
Make weak men brave and laggards of the bold ; 
Defeated thrice and seeming dead and cold. 
She cometh as Remorse with stricter bands. 
Her throne is 'stablished upon vanquish'd wills ; 
No sacrifice of trivial wine or corn 
She asketh, but the strong desire first born, 
The ruby moisture that the heart distills ; 
Her road lies up among the savage hills. 
Yet there the tenderest feet have often gone. 



SONNETS. 



CONSCIENCE. 

Conscience, like a crusader in distress, 
Under liis heavy iron panoply, 
Beneath the flaming vault of Syrian sky, 
Perplex'd by Paynims, swift and merciless, 
Is girt and harried by an eager press 
Of pagan f oemen, — Insult, Lust, and Lie, — 
And weaken'd, under Fate's intolerant eye. 
By the rude armor of her righteousness. 
How may blunt truth and honesty provide 
Mean ways for her, the child of knightly times? 
Or honor strive with the dishonest mimes, 
Gamblers and brigands, who have cast aside 
Honor and probity and fear and pride, 
And lightly bear the burden of their crimes ? 



SONNETS. 



HOPE. 

Is there no mockery ambusli'd in thine eyes, 
Thou "naked j^romisor of kingdoms," Hope, - 
Watching the rose of expectation ope, 
Breathing thine unabashed auguries 
Before the cold unconscious destinies, 
Or dropping doA\Ti thy short and slender rope 
Into the dark abysses where we grope. 
Or leading on our eager fantasies ? 
Likest the moon thou sufferest thy eclipse 
Undimm'd ; skilled like the Sibyl to repair 
Disaster and escape each sudden snare ; — 
And like a girl whose fairy finger-tips 
Lure back the twice betray'd, with rosy lips 
Disarmest the dejection of Despair. 



SONNETS. 



"THAT TWICE -BATTERED GOD OF 
PALESTINE." 

Didst thou not smile in very truth, old World, 
When young Enthusiasm touched thy shield, 
That giant disk whose dints and scars reveal'd 
Thine ancient prowess, — and, bright-eyed, un- 

furl'd 
His fair new banner, thickly gemmed and 

pearl'd ; 
Braving the brand that thou alone canst wield, 
'Neath which so many vigorous hopes have 

reel'd, 
Helpless, into tlie dust ensanguined hurl'd ? 
Vain is the pygmy war we wage, light-arm'd 
In ardent youth, with thee who stand'st enorm, 
Strategic, cold, remorseless, unalarm'd, — 
Biding th' eternal menace of Reform, 
The Prophet's zeal, the Anarch's curse, un- 

harm'd, — 
Crushing with thy huge weight each threaten'd 

storm. 



SONNETS. 



PATIENCE. 

Vanqtjish'd to-day, she neither doubts nor fears ; 
Ah'eady she beholds each fallen spire 
Refashion'd nearer to the heart's desire. 
Like Hope upon her anchor poised, she hears 
The unborn triumph of her toiling years ; 
Awaiting with a confidence sublime 
Tlie outcrop of the teeming womb of Time, 
The perfect form of all her whirling spheres. 
Lo ! not the wars and armaments of kings, 
The bursts of genius in its ficlde mood, 
Are pregnant with the most enormous birth ; 
Nor thunder menacing the sullen earth, 
Nor the roars in a lion-haunted wood. 
But Patience brooding over future things. 



SONNETS. 



"BACKED WITH RESOLUTION." 

What shall delay the tempest--baffling WiU 
Her triumph over thne ; who gathers force 
Like some swift stream in its resistless course ; 
In whom is such a warranty of skill 
The fretful voice of doubt is hush'd and still ; 
Whose hopes are shadows of approaching things ; 
Whose wishes have the power of feet and wings ; 
Whose brimming coffers Fortune loves to fill ? 
What of the mind without her ? Lo ! a star 
Pitch'd wildly from his sphere, — a vacant car 
Hurl'd on by reinless steeds, — a wisp of straw 
Blown round a chaff-strewn floor, — an insect 

ground 
In the great wheels of the wide world, roU'd 

round 
Forever by unalterable law. 



10 SONNETS. 



MELANCHOLIA. 

]\Iethought in dreams I journey 'd long ago — 

Deep in an ancient forest I awoke : 

Beneath the knotted knees of a gnarled oak 

A witch in woman's form rocked to and fro, 

Chaunting a sullen canticle of woe, 

Of lovelorn maids, lost hopes, and hearts that 

broke ; 
Or sitting silent brooded by the smoke 
A dying fire sent upward, burning low. 
Gigantic twisted boughs, dusky with night, 
Rose round, behind wliich burn'd the elfin light 
Of dropping da,y, knell'd by the plaining wind ; 
A weird phantasmal spot, fitting the spells 
Of Melancholia, subtlest fiend that dwells 
Thron'd in the dead waste places of the mind. 



SONNETS. 11 



SUBTLE SPRING. 

What subtle touch upon what secret string, 
What naked bleakness of wind-wither'd bowers, 
What frozen barrenness of wintry hours, 
What sick surmise, forlorn imagining, 
Makes sad the haunting melody of Spring ; 
Her songs, her pomp, her verdure and her 

blooms. 
Her fronds, her coronals, and eddying plumes, — 
While all the cherubs of the mornino: sing: ? 
Subtle as Sphinx is she, too subtly wise 
To dull the soul with undisturbed content ; 
But with suggestions sad and subtly blent, 
She weaves in her enchanting mystery 
Musings and thoughts that touch eternity, — 
The songs of April and the breath of sighs. 



12 SONNETS. 



FORTUNE'S INJUSTICE. 

Against what patient labors she has slnn'd, 
The Gypsy, in whose gift an unjust fate 
Has put the treasure and the mines of Ind, 
The purple and the ermine of the state : 
Who robs the toiler of the fruits of toil, 
Whom labor in rude comfort might uphold, 
While rifling all the world for glittering spoil 
To lightly shower " barbaric pearl and gold." 
Does she not weary of her vain expense 
For aye enriching fools at so much cost ? 
For when their smiling faces give oifense ^ 
From fool to fool the golden ball is tost. 
And like an eagle, thief and robber lord. 
Her eyes desire the shepherd's slender hoard. 



SONNETS. 13 



THE STATUE OF LORENZO DE' 
MEDICI. 

Mark me how still I am ! — The sound of feet 

Unnumber'd echoing thro' this vaulted hall, 

Or voices harsh, on me unheeded fall. 

Placed high in my memorial niche and seat, 

In cold and marble meditation meet 

Among proud tombs and pomp funereal 

Of rich sarcophagi and sculptur'd wall, — 

In death's elaborate elect retreat. 

I was a Prince, — this monument was wrought 

That I in honor might eternal stand ; 

In vain, subdued by Buonarroti's hand. 

The conscious stone is pregnant with his thought ; 

He to this brooding rock his fame devised, 

And he, not I, is here immortalized. 



14 SONNETS. 



C^SAR. 

Men hate a tyrant, yet but few could hate 
The first strong- Caesar with his falcon eye ; 
Who cross'd the Rubicon reluctantly ; 
Whom Mars and wise Minerva both called great : 
Whom none might pique or turn or irritate ; 
" Acer, indomitus," — profound, urbane, 
Alert, intrepid, temperate, humane ; 
A tyrant thro' the tyranny of Fate ; 
The poHsh'd scholar of a pohsh'd age ; — 
Second to none with tongue or sword or pen ; 
Fitted to govern, lead, and flatter men ; 
Dispute with Cleopatra or a sage ; — 
" Engaging Caesar who with grace and ease 
Could join the arts to ruin and to please.'* 



n 



SONNETS. 15 



THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA. 

Whex on the blazon'd page of History, 
With all the pomp of ancient worlds inscroll'd, 
I see the mighty centuries outroll'd, 
Rome rising, Carthage falling, Athens free, — 
Then the great vision of the midland sea. 
Enriching all with freights of orient gold. 
Whose shores were palaces and empires old. 
Beams forth in splendor, light, and majesty ; — 
Eternal theatre of high romance. 
Whose skies serene matured a perfect art, 
Unhous'd dull life to beautify it more. 
Drew empire from all trivial cognizance, 
Gave her a workl of sunlight for her chart, 
Splendor to peace, magnificence to war. 



16 SONNETS. 



ROME. 

Thy ruins have outlived thy Nemesis, 
O Rome, once War's imperial votaress ; 
Whom Tiber knew unchaste and merciless, 
Like those proud Queens passed to the realms of 

Dis, 
Helen, and Mary, and Semiramis. 
Wliile Thebes lay buried in the wilderness, — 
While owl and bat and snake and leopardess 
Dwelt in the chambers of Persepolis, — 
The ages flocked as they still flock to thee ; 
And now, around thy everlasting- throne, 
New powers spring up that Sci23io might own ; 
New legions rise, like those that once led forth 
Their irresistible eagles, east and north, 
From Caledonia to the Euxine Sea. 



SONNETS. 17 



VOICELESS VICTORY. 

Methought my sun of Austerlitz should dawn 

With all prophetic splendor in the sky, 

With battle music on the breezes borne, 

With paeans and with pomp of victory : 

There should be thrones possessed, and banners 

flown 
From gay pavilions and proud castle walls ; 
And trophies high uphung, and trumpets blown 
On Capitolian hills, in temple halls. 
Is this my day of triumph ? The gray morn 
Unnoticed with swift sandals steals away ; 
There are no voices on the silent air. 
As all were on some senseless errand gone ; 
No new-found jeweled sceptre do I sway, — 
The blessing stole upon me unaware. 



18 SONNETS. 



COUNTERFEITS. 

No powerful rampart nor impregnable wall 
Avails, if fixed and inexorable fate 
Has lodged a secret foe within the gate, 
And seats liim at the feast and in the hall. 
Better an army's peremptory call 
Without the postern, than a secret hate ; 
Should one's own coward nature lie in wait 
For him, that enemy is worse than all. 
The frowning foreheads of irresolute men 
Are like fine raiment put upon a fool. 
With imitated state and show of rule, 
Howe'er they bear them in another's ken ; 
Like a proud keep with flaunting banners gay, 
But honeycomb'd with treason and decay. 



SONNETS. 19 



PROTEUS. 

Accuse me not that I am prone to change ; 
True I have roam'd in other fields than ours, 
Have rambled by far streams in meadows strange 
And pluck'd the broad-cupp'd foreign Lotus 

flowers ; 
Among the dripping Naiads of the sea, 
Have found the rose-lipp'd pearl-incrusted shell ; 
Picked amber gum from the Arabian tree ; 
And cull'd the far sought fabulous Asphodel : 
Up the steep Alpine precipice have roved 
To snatch the feathers from an eagle's wing ; 
Deserted Plato and philosophy 
To deeply drink from the Pierian spring ; 
Yet Conscience calls it not inconstancy 
The Protean shapes of Beauty to have loved. 



20 SONNETS. 



IDEALS. 

Not the wise Sphinx, nor subtle reasonings 
Which hang great arguments on slender ropes, 
Can prove the bitter end of human hopes, 
Perforce confined to visionary things. 
The unborn chrysalis hath budding wings, 
And soon shall fly about earth's flowery slopes ; 
The doubt that now in husk'd darkness gropes. 
Ripening unseen, its own deliverance brings. 
Unguessed, unsought, each great idea lies 
In the prophetic mind it feeds and warms ; 
Waiting to clothe itself in deathless forms. 
In adamant, in iron porphyries ; 
As Thebes lay veiled from sight, awaiting birth, 
In Pharaoh's brain who wrouo^ht it on the earth. 



SONNETS. 21 



NATURA MALIGNA. 

What of the deep cold bubbling wells of scorn 
Cleft in thy heart, O World, whose youth is fed 
With countless generations of the dead ? 
What of thy sons, O Earth, whose bones out- 
worn 
Lie crumbling in the womb where they were 

born. 
While thy cherubic chorus rings fall choir 
With salutation to the eastern fire, 
Mid airs auroral and bright dews of morn ? 
O Earth, thou art too young and void of ruth ; — 
Albeit thy years are number'd with the stars, 
Deck'd like a bride before the chancel bars ; 
Insatiate as Durga's sanguin'd cup ; 
Each day a hecatomb is offer'd up 
To feed the fire of thy immortal youth. 



22 SONNETS. 



WHITE SQUALLS. 

Serene and smiling, the perfidious Days 
Are sometimes cruel in their loveliness ; 
Like lions whose sleek skins none dare caress, 
Whose treacherous eyes look forth with dreamy 

gaze, 
Whose rage like straw leaps in a sudden blaze : 
Let but a random tone disturb her rest, 
And lo, her eyes are fixed upon thy breast 
Like tojDaz lights or fiery chrysoj^hrase. 
Beware the cloudless day of unstirred leaf, 
The thunder lurking in the sultry air, — 
Beware the breathless sea's mysterious cry, 
The low prophetic wailing of the reef ; — 
If azure arches Jungfrau's brow, beware 
The Terror hanging in the frosty sky. 



SONNETS. 23 



CARPE DIEM. 

Eat thou and drink ; to-morrow thou shalt die. 
Time's stream disgorges into A<!heron ; 
Be wise, ere yet it is thy Phlegethon : 
Drink in the air of life dehciously. 
If all like felons under sentence lie, 
To-day has yet its royal diadem ; 
Pluck off the ripe rose from its haughty stem 
Ere its red leaves are shrivel'd up and dry. 
Each Hour that comes is like a royal bride 
From over seas with gifts of pearl and gold ; 
Be swift to welcome her, — and vigilant ; 
Fling all thy gates and porches open wide, — 
Deck her with gems, and let the gods behold 
Her tower'd fortunes, crown'd and culminant. 



24 SONNETS. 



"THE APE AND TIGER." 

" Now like a Macedonian oracle 

You speak," — so said Demosthenes and died, 

To foil the spears that would have pierc'd his 

side. 
Again, at Formio, in that deep dell. 
By the Tyrrhenian sea, where Tully fell, 
The same unpitying voice was heard to cry ; 
The same that bade the gladiator die, — 
Which Caesar in his purple could not quell. 
Whether by mob or king exhibited, 
The brute in man is full of cruelty. 
Fierce ignorance and cold ferocity : 
Quoth Herod, " Bring me here John Baptist's 

head ! " 
" Give us Barabbas ! " so the rabble said, 
And sent the Christ to the accursed Tree. 



SONNETS. 25 



TRAGEDY AND SONG. 

The sea grows voiceful in the rushing shoal, 
A song of pure content ye shall not hear. 
What bitterness and meclipeval fear 
Reflect their lurid hues on Dante's scroll ; 
Reveal the tainted spirit's rueful goal ; 
Illumine the profound Tartarean sphere, 
Encoiling Geryon, and the Harpies drear, 
Gorgon, and wretched Myrrha's ancient soul ! 
So happy nations have no history ; 
No crimson, thrilling, melancholy page ; 
No names that sound in every clime and age ; 
No Trasemene and no Chseronea, — 
No Cannae, no Pharsalia, no Platsea, — 
No Salamis and no Thermopylae. 



26 SONNETS. 



GATES OF PEARL. 

Thko' gates of pearl, thro' rifts of lonesome sky, — 
Thro' cloudland, over heaven's azure field, — 
All night the moon moves on and bears on high 
The silver pageant of her bnrnish'd shield. 
"With veils diaphanous of thinnest lawn 
She wreaths herself, or from the stark mid height 
All nakedly she beams, or far withdrawn 
Behind dark clouds rains forth a doubtful light. 
All night the earth like one beneath a spell, 
Dazed by the light that dawn'd upon her dreams, 
Looks up at the enchanting spectacle ; 
Dappled and patch'd with heaven's varying 

moods, — 
The drifting shadows over pools and streams, 
The banks like snow that edge the dusky woods. 



SONNETS. 27 



"BLACK VESPER'S PAGEANTS." 

Again the parting sun's funereal pyre 

Burns in the wild and melancholy west, 

Watch'd by a solemn troop of clouds at rest, 

Whose vast and sombre countenances dire 

Are writ with ancient storms and wither'd ire : 

In elemental calm they lie depress'd 

Above the brooding earth's broad dusky breast ; 

A still and incommunicable fire 

Glows in the dim brown depths of the tall pines, 

Aloof, serene, and unapproachable. 

Is it fact or fancy, when my thought divines 

A monstrous life in things insensible ; 

In clouds, in gloomy flame at sunsets drear, 

Pointing to each liis anguish, rage, and fear ? 



28 SONNETS. 



THE EAGLE. 

His hooked talons grasp the wither'd tree ; 
He gazes round him, red in beak and claw ; 
Untrodden summits high above him soar, 
Beneath yawns an abyss, whence fitfully 
At times is blown a sound as of the sea, 
Pent in the caverns of some craggy shore ; 
The cataract sends up a muffled roar, 
Breaking the silence of eternity. 
The thunder rolls above him and he hears 
Faint echoes from the far-off world below ; 
Chainless and free, no strong compunctions grow 
Like vines about his will ; no tedious years 
Of toil unnerve his strength, no qualms, no fears ; 
Untrammeled as the winds which round him blow. 



SONNETS. 29 



ULTIMA THULE. 

Where now is Ultima Thule ? near at hand 
The spectral mountains of the scoriae moon, 
lUumin'd by a blanching desolate noon, — 
Crags, summits, craters, — in strange sunlight 

stand : 
A lifeless world ; — a mapp'd and charted land, 
Tho' seen by few. In the remotest skies 
What unimaginable scenes arise, 
Call'd up by Galileo's magic wand ! 
Too bright her orb, but on its upper rim 
A notch'd and ragged silliouette appears, — 
A range of ghostly mountains stark and grim, — 
Batter'd and scarr'd by unrevealed years ; 
Frontiers that edge the outside vacancy, — 
The farthest outpost in Infinity. 



30 SONNETS. 



VAIN COWARDICE. 

"Frustra eruento Marte carebimus." 

In vain we shun, at feasts, with myrtle crown'd, 
The serried legion's glittering array, 
Whose eagles flash along the Appian Way 
To Antioch en route and Parthian ground : 
In vain we shun the ships of Ostia bound 
For Colchian seas beneath a stormy sky ; 
Or when the Thunder Crags at midnight cry 
With well barr'd windows shudder at the sound. 
Still the unresting years must bring in sight 
Cocytus winding thro' its oozy bed, 
Sad Acheron, river of endless woe : 
Nay, each veil'd Hour which comes with footsteps 

light, 
Uncoiling her encircling scarf, may show 
Medusa's snaky hair and Gorgon's head. 



SONNETS. 31 



«QUEM TU MELPOMENE." 

Whom Beauty lures apart with magic spell, 
Far from the town, the court, the field of arms, — 
Him shall no giant gains enrich, and swell 
The growing rent-roll of his glebes and farms ; 
For him no bay leaves shall be filleted ; 
No chaplets twined by the white hands of maids, 
Like laurel for the first bald Cajsar's head, 
Who sent so many to the Stygian shades : 
Him shall no powerful sword nor fortunate crime 
Fix brightly in the golden galaxy. 
Starlike in the dark firmament of time : 
Therefore imperious Beauty has for him 
Her deep recess'd pure vale of mystery, 
Rock-seal'd and guarded by the Cherubim. 



32 SONNETS. 



"FRESH WOODS AND PASTURES 
NEW." 

The churl may reap the crops, and cottage maids 

Bind up in harvest sheaves the ripen'd grain, 

Or homebound dance about the creaking wain ; 

The village Beauties bind their hair in braids. 

Or plight their troth in twilight woods and glades. 

Let the starv'd eagle scream, the lean wolf yelp. 

The toothless lion and the lion's whelp 

Keep to their noisome dens and Stygian shades. 

The churl may rest, the tired ox releas'd 

Go down in safety to the woodland well ; 

Yet other trophies may be lost or won, 

In hall or bower, at tourney or at feast. 

From knight or lady, Blancheflor or Florizel, — 

Lamiel, Lavaine, — Floris or Faramon. 



SONNETS. 



TO-DAY'S SCEPTRE. 

What drear encampment of encircling glooms, 

Or sick surmise of culminating fate, 

Can bid To-day put off her eddying plumes ; 

Her orb, her ornaments, and purpled state ; 

Her flowing robes of silk and flower'd vest ; — 

Now when the eyes of all the gods behold 

Her pomp, her diadem, and fulgent crest ; 

Her domes and cupolas of burnish'd gold ? 

What omen, dire portent, or oracle. 

Can make her put aside her jewelry ; 

Her crown and vestments sew'd with costly 

beads ? 
Or still the sweet clash of her wedding bells, — 
Now when her chariot waits, — the frothy steeds 
Champ at their golden curbs impatiently ? 



34 SONNETS. 



LIFE'S BANQUET HALL. 

Lo ! when the lamps that glitter'd on the wall 

Are clarken'd and the merry feast is over, 

Who round the festal board would basely hover, 

Feeding on scraps ? Ay ! who so low would fall 

To beg the crumbs of some old festival, 

The broken bread of some old feast, where erst 

He sat like Alexander, to be curs'd 

And like a slave, scourg'd from the Banquet 

Hall? 
Better the graceful exit, — to depart 
Like one who scorns to ask a servile alms 
With greedy eyes and supplicating palms. 
So Caesar, when the daggers pierc'd his heart, 
Left his wide realm with no unseemly cry, 
No supplication, no regretful sigh. 



SONNETS. 35 



THE WORLD WELL LOST. 

There 's something just in the contempt and scorn 

Of lean ascetics for the garish world, 

Whose patient feet in some poor cell are furl'd, 

Clad in the skins of goats, unkempt, unshorn. 

Some spot remote, some place yet unforlorn, 

Which human baseness cannot spoil or touch, 

Happy is he who never sigh'd for such ! 

Ay ! verily, how happy is he born 

On whom the jocund world has never pall'd, 

Whom its rough iron chain has never gall'd, 

Till sick at heart, he seeks to be alone ; 

As Sylla left his empire and his throne, 

Or Diocletian his imperial Rome 

To build on her frontiers his quiet home. 



36 SONNETS. 



PHILOCTETES. 

Ye deities, how ye afflict me still ! 

A bleak and stony walk the Spirit plods 

Beneath the steadfast anger of the gods. 

Here daily my bare feet have paced, until 

A beaten track leads from my hut's rude sill ; 

Grief, pain, disease, despair, hold me at bay, 

As lean and hungry as a bird of prey, 

Upheld alone by the supporting will. 

What scaldings have I felt, what freezings, burns ? 

Hot, cold, and wet and dry, afflict by turns : 

If I yet live it seems a vile abuse ; 

Reason itself a thing depriv'd of use. 

Like spice in sepulchres and purple woofs, 

Or cavern crystals flashing from dark roofs. 



SONNETS. 37 



" DUSTED VELVETS." 

* 

How all these violences tempt the Soul 
From her still cloisters and sequester'd bowers, 
Inglorious leisure and inactive hours ! 
The spells that bound me can no more cajole ; 
Weary already seems the scriptur'd scroll. 
The restless stewards of superfluous time, — 
Up the steep Alpine precipice they climb 
To reach the eagle's scarp'd and rocky goal. 
The famish'd tempest-beaten sigh for rest ; 
Dreams of low-lying isles and tufted palms 
Creep under the tired lids of seamen's eyes : 
Couch'd on soft cushions under Persian skies, 
The sated Eastern monarch flies to arms. 
Strapping the disused armor round his breast. 



38 SONNETS. 



THE SENTINEL OF ACRE. 

• 

A loNELY spot ! the sentinel of God 
I stand, whate'er betide : bleak Powers they were, 
Implacable and stern, who placed me here ; 
With brazen shield and spear and massy rod 
Or mace injurious ; iron clad and shod, 
In frock of temper'd steel and metal pure ; 
And ten times folded patience to endure, 
Tho' my red blood incarnadine the sod. 
All times far off I hear the thunder-roll 
Of battle on the mountains and the mere ; 
The shouting of the captains, — sweeter sound 
Than music in still chambers breath'd around ; — 
While each inglorious hour I linger here 
Wedges the iron deeper in my soul. 



SONNETS. 39 



BARREN LABOR. 

Mother of stillborn multitudinous dreams, 

Weary of heaven's barren husbandry, 

Of shepherding the clouds o'er wold and sea, 

Of silvering the placid pools and streams. 

Of pouring on the waste thy patient beams, 

Whose flowerless fields wiU never bloom for 

thee, — 
Canst thou escape the morning's mockery, 
And mocking truths of daylight's threadbare 

themes ? 
Must thou, too, shudder at the laughing light, 
The sudden disenchantment of the day, 
The morning's rosy sweet felicity. 
And hostile truth's inhospitality ; 
Pale from the triumphs of a lonely way 
And lonely labors thro' the still midnight ? 



40 SONNETS. 



LOST LEGIONS. 

When ridden by the heavy hand of Fate 
A bitter thought is busy in my brain, 
Despair of self and scornful self-disdain, — 
Seeking some sin in this my poor estate, 
I dare not call myself unfortunate ; 
Forgetting that the triple Sisters reign, 
Counting no nicely balanced loss or gain, 
Blind to the powers on which men calculate. 
I sent an army forth of glittering hopes, 
But like the legions by that Roman lost, 
Not one returned to me of all that host, 
Lost, lost, all lost ujDon life's fiery slopes ; 
And still my Soul unto herself doth say, 
" Varus, Varus, my legions, where are they ! 



SONNETS. 41 



FATE. 

Because she came in armor, sword in hand, 
And had no mercy for my nakedness, 
I cas'd my limbs in knightly steel ; — no less 
Did she confound me in a barren land 
Of fiery smis and tracts of burning sand. 
Where I waxed faint beneath my iron press ; 
And lo ! she wore the wicked Paynim's dress, 
And pierc'd with arrows the vain sliield 

plann'd. 
And when she left me with the lonely hope 
To reach the gates of my Jerusalem, 
Casting my armor on the dusty slope, 
Naked that sea of fire I could not stem ; — 
In the fierce heat my ancient wounds did ope, 
Baring the sting of her last stratagem. 



42 SONNETS. 



LIFE IN CAPTIVITY. 

The crystal brook runs quickly from its stain ; 
The joy of youth is thinly veiled in tears, 
Like April's face smiles out amid the rain ; 
Moist as a Naiad once, the healing years 
Bring back the Cupids to a widow's eye ; 
The rich that dally with superfluous hours 
Flaunt in such dyes and play as wantonly 
As do the ivory cups of vermeil flowers ; 
Not always did the Furies lash their prey, 
Orestes, hidden in some sacred bower ; 
Clouds and eclipses are soon roU'd away ; 
Yet must I under my affliction cower, — 
I cannot free my shoulders from the yoke, 
More strong than triple brass or ribs of oak. 



SONNETS. 43 



"IN SHACKLES TIRED.'' 

Let the taU sunflower flaunt its yellow gold, 
The crimson roses blush in burning row ; — 
They suffer nothing from the winter's cold ; 
They are not pinch'd with frost nor kill'd with 

snow ; 
No mildew, blight, nor icy Lapland years 
Spoil their young buds. No frowning element 
Spreads terror thro' blithe Phillida's small ears, 
Strikes Phoebe into gloomy discontent. 
What rank and bitter potion have I drain 'd, 
With beady drops of sullen Lethe stain'd ? 
If leaves could spring upon the riven oak, — 
If frozen streams could break their steely yoke, — 
Then, only then, I might shake off the god, 
Fling down his heavy staff and iron rod. 



44 SONNETS. 



TIME'S PERFIDY. 

Mt hopes were like an army glorious 

Before this cruel war with Time began. 

I look'd to find a foe magnanimous, 

Not the dark ambush into which I ran, 

And brutal battles dim and perilous. 

But see how Time has trapp'd me in his coil 

And bent my neck with hand contrarious ; 

My days of life and youth become a spoil. 

Strange mad result of youth's high fantasies ! 

What lustres here are dimmed — what ardors 

bright 
Lie here undone in these dark strategies ? 
What glowing thoughts that for each gleaming 

height 
Plumed their undaunted wings in arduous flight — 
What dreams, brave visions, shining auguries ? 



SONNETS. 45 



VAIN RESISTANCE. 

Rest and be quiet, since there is no ruth 

In the dull horologe of noiseless time : 

We are not made of such a stuff sublime 

As fits us for rebellion ; once in youth 

I quarrel'd with my lot, but now, forsooth, 

I lie as still as a tall deodar 

Uprooted by the storm ; too wise by far, 

Too feeble to rebel against the truth. 

Who shall contend with fortune ? What befell 

lapetus and Dolor, huge of limb, — 

Who forced the gods to hide in woods and caves ? 

Or him the Hebrews held invincible, — 

Whom the Philistines snared, — and chained him 

" Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves " ? 



PHILOCTETES AT LEMNOS. 



PHILOCTETES AT LEMNOS. 

Philoctetes, Chorus of Mariners. 
CHORUS. 

This way he comes with brooding eyes bent low ; 
Unheeding, wrapt in thought, dejected, slow, 
His speech is to himself or to the gods, 
Like one bruis'd deeply by their heavy rods. 

PHILOCTETES. 

I have been lonely as a widow'd hawk 
Upon the splinter 'd pine-tree's hollow stalk ; 
Sick of the iron crags, — his perch all day, — 
Of ransacking a barren coast for prey. 
Alas how long have I look'd wistfully 
Across the tenantless and desert sea ? 
Qaestion'd each cloud speck on the broad sea line, 
The flash of sunned white wings or sparkling 

brine, — 
Expectant of some coming oar or sail ? 
In summer calms — or when the wintry gale 
Whiten'd yon aged crag, whose shatter'd form 
In cataract and thunder broke the storm ; 
The wild, torn skirts of tempest drifting by 



50 PHILOCTETES AT LEMNOS. 

"With aiigiy gleams and awful rifts of sky. 
In vain I for me no bright oar clips or sliines ; 
Among the gnarled oaks and bleak blown pines 
I roam like some grim beast in gloom and pain, 
In whom the hunter's arrows yet remain : 
Hateful to me my distant cabin smoke, 
Hateful the bleak blown pine and gnarled oak. 
My sinews take no rest, my mind no ease ; 
No sound I hear except the plunging seas 
Dash'd on the rocks and in the echoing caves ; 
And, roll'd and tumbled by the gloomy waves, 
The stones and shingle grating on the beach ; 
And overhead the strident sea-fowl's screech. 
Ye sea-wash'd crags ! Ye melancholy hills ! 
Ye wind-blown pines and oaks and voiceless rills ! 
Ye slimy pools with long green drowned hair ! 
Oh, why must I behold ye ? Must I bear 
The sight of these gray rocks and barren seas 
Till horror makes them seem accomplices ? 

CHORUS. 

His tongue is bitter and the words are strong, 
But they have reason out of shame and wrong. 

PHILOCTETES. 

Alas the small weak worm on which I trod, 

Unjjitying as the least piteous god ! 

Alas the shrill taunts and the scornful cries, 



PHILOCTETES AT LEMNOS. 51 

The fierce hard faces and the cruel eyes ! 

My wool was prime and straightway I was shorn, 

Stript naked to the shearer's gaze and scorn ; 

Mock'd by my enemies ; betray'd, deceiv'd ; 

Of everything at one fell stroke bereav'd ; 

Deserted, robb'd, to groan in filth and rags, 

In solitude among the barren crags ; 

Outraged by gods and men ; unlov'd, unpitied, — 

By the Achaeans overwatch'd, outwitted. 

Were there no black reefs in the rushing shoal. 

No ragged rims, no spik'd and rocky goal 

To stretch the ribs of their wreck'd ships upon ? 

No boiling surf to be their Phlegethon ? 

No gulfs to suck them down ? no violent gales 

With talons to tear out their masts and sails ? 

CHORUS. 

Who shall take counsel with th' consummate gods ? 
Question, or mete them bounds, or stay their rods ? 
Ages yon pine stood up its stately height, 
Green robed, and prosper'd in the broad sunlight ; 
Fire in one moment came, behold it now, 
A hollow ruin'd stalk and broken bough. 

PHILOCTETES. 

None ever strove with Fate and stood erect, 
Whose ordinance the gods themselves respect. 
What twistings have I felt ; what scalds and burns ? 



52 PHILOCTETES AT LEMNOS. 

What freezings, rigors, rendings ; what vile 

spurns, — 
To testify the strength of Fate to men ? 
Ten years confin'd, in sorrow three times ten. 
With unseen rivets to this iron rock 
Where eagles scream and myriad sea-gulls flock ; 
Disabled, with no comrade to divide 
My misery ; perplex'd and sorely tried 
'Twixt unpermitted death, suppress'd desire, 
That tortures like an unconsuming fire. 
My wounds inflam'd, which no benumbing balm, 
No bandage softly bound, can soothe and charm ; 
No lavers cool, no ointment can abate, — 
Rankle, ferment, exude and ulcerate. 
The venom from the serpent's bite, spung'd up, 
Absorb'd by the reluctant flesh, no cup 
Holding narcotic spirits can assuage ; 
No lulling opiate allay its rage ; 
No quick, inquisitive, and ardent juice 
Pursue it thro' the veins, by secret sluice. 
And rob it of its strength : the fluid wrath 
Passes uncheck'd along its narrow path, 
To the occult and central pith ; there lives. 
In scorn of potent drugs and purgatives. 
In fierce ascendancy over the flesh, 
Immix'd and tangled in its poisonous mesh. 
Sometimes with pain I shriek aloud and tear 
With frenzied hands my long and matted hair ; 



PHILOCTETES AT LEMNOS. 53 

Or cast upon the jagged flints and stones 
Writhe like a wounded snake ; with shrieks and 

groans, 
Curses and lamentations of despair, 
That seem in the profound and desert air 
Louder than human by the lonely main ; 
Thrice horrible, inhuman and profane, 
Reechoed from the melancholy caves 
And mock'd by the innumerable waves. 

CHORUS. 

Yet Hope survives to life's last periods. 
First known and latest lost of all the gods. 

PHILOCTETES. 

Ay, ay, from sour affliction's lowest ditch. 
To crown'd and sceptred Fortune's topmost pitch. 
The gods can raise men up ; as easily 
Despoil them of their robes and dignity. 

CHORUS. 

Reproach not thou the gods too readily. 

Nor thuik all heav'n in league to torture thee. 

PHILOCTETES. 

'T is a far road for a brief human cry 

To reach the gods ; yet I must weep who lie 

Like an old galley wreck'd and cast away, 



54 PHILOCTETES AT LEMNOS. 

Moor'd to the wharf and falling to decay ; 

Desjjoil'd and subject to contempt and scorn, 

Forgotten and forsaken and forlorn ; 

Outlaw'd and heap'd with outrage, obloquy, 

In a contemptible obscurity ; 

Seeing no pity in another's eyes 

And buried from all use and exercise ; 

Uncomforted, uncounsel'd, unresign'd ; 

In agony and anguish of the mind. 

O days of shame ! O servile banishment ! 

hours of lethargy and discontent ! 
Yet in my youth, ambitious and devoted, 

1 thought myself not meant to live unnoted, 
Inferior, subaltern, and obscure ; 

Fate's iron bests unriddled yet, unsure. 
Austerely I was bred — by gulf and crag 
And rocky glen, pursued the stricken stag ; 
In forest shades, on foot, and void of fear, 
Robb'd of her frolic cubs the grizzled bear ; 
Nor ever to the wine flask had recourse. 
My thirst allaying at the stream's pure source, 
With the clear drops content and cooling brook 
Scoop'd in the hand : by nightfall overtook 
Slept where I chanced, upon a flinty couch. 
Fed from the contents of my frugal pouch. 
Soundly I slept and when the rising sun 
Glitter'd upon the gurgling water-run. 
And all along a golden belt of cloud 



PHIL0CTETE8 AT LEMNOS. 55 

Shook keen - edg'd lightnings, with pure rays 

imbrow'd, 
Already I had risen, with clear head, 
Trod the ascending path with springing tread ; 
Nor envied those who gloat upon their wealth. 
Nor those who vaunt in pride of youth and 

health, 
Flaunting like gaudy insects in the sun 
Thro' brisk and dissolute days and nothing done. 
Danger I courted, careless in what form 
Or visage grim it came, in calm or storm. 

CHORUS. 

Who looks before him or foresees the end 

To which thro' many a maze his footsteps tend ? 

PHILOCTETES. 

Too soon I learn'd Fate's iron alphabet, 

Spell'd out her tangled scrawl and words of jet, 

In gyves, in exile, in captivity. 

Lo, I am prostrate like a fallen tree ! 

Yet I remember what I was and mount 

The stream of thunder to its placid fount. 

I was a god in youth ere Time unveil'd 

His black and grisly obverse. Then I sail'd 

Over the shining circles of the world, 

Like a bright bird with tireless wings unf url'd — 

A cloud that drifts before the indolent breeze — 



56 PHILOCTETES AT LEMNOS. 

A corsair voyaging illimitable seas, 
Frequent with isles that in the distance rest 
Like clouds of even in the golden west ; 
In climes where it seems always balmy spring, 
Where sleeps the halcyon with folded wing ; 
Where in thick clusters from the trellis'd vine 
The grape hangs purpling, ere the vats with wine 
Run over and their ruby blood is spilt ; 
Where winds blow softly and no frost can wilt 
The myrtle or the light green olive bowers, 
The tenderest spray or coronal of flowers. 

CHORUS. 

Ay, thou hast suffer'd much, with evils curs'd, 
Unnumber'd, without stint — yet not the worst. 
Not crush'd by evil, worthy scorn and shame. 
Contempt of gods and men, dispraise and blame . 
Like beasts that chew the cud, indifferent 
To blows or curses, praise or iDunishment. 
Too oft repay'd with scorn and obloquy, 
Great souls seem greater in adversity. 
In bondage, in neglect, in solitude ; 
Immovable, unconquer'd, unsubdued, 
Like Atlas stern and bleak, his naked form 
Bared to the lightning and the beating storm ; 
Inflexible whatever pangs they feel, 
Impenetrably arm'd as if in steel. 
The happy are on all sides vulnerable, 



PHILOCTETES AT LEMNOS. 57 

In fear and dread invoke the oracle, 
The bliss they prove has all too brief a date ; 
Virtue alone is safe from change or fate, 
Whose nature is like iron, which when scourg'd 
Beneath the forger's blows, is clinch'd and 

purg'd ; 
Like flint if struck yields unsuspected fire, 
And rugged sweetness like a storm-swept wire. 

PHILOCTETES. 

Ay, something lives in my unfetter'd breast, 

Unvanquish'd yet, unalter'd, unexprest ; 

Unbroken by the torrent that roll'd past, 

As yet unbow'd, unwither'd by the blast. 

I am not what I was ; pure pain has power 

To nerve and purify like juices sour ; 

These rigors give my heart a keener zest 

Triumphant over the extremest test. 

Ten years of life remov'd, with groans and pains 

Endur'd and lost to youth ; yet nnich remains, 

Courage and the unconquerable mind, — 

A force that chains cannot subdue or bind. 

The gods are just — it were a cruel art 

To twist the sinews of a tiger's heart, 

To fashion his dread neck, were all his veins 

Screw'd flat and strangled under rigid chains. 

There must be bonds cast off and broken thralls 

Torn from the grasp of sullen seneschals. 



58 PHILOCTETES AT LEMNOS. 

And haughty crests shatter'cl by sudden swords 

As when wrong'd nations rise against their lords. 

Ambrosial oils of genial influence 

Hope drops upon each rack'd and tortur'd sense ; 

Already golden auguries prelude 

Some brighter phase of dark vicissitude, 

And from their cold pure skyey summits hurl'd 

My spirits rage against the monstrous world, 

As crystal brooks, distill'd in purest air, 

Run sparkling from the granite mountains bare. 

CHORUS. 

Wise is he who when most unfortunate 
Trusts in the gods and still confides in Fate. 

PHILOCTETES. 

Out of my heart I speak confidingly. 

CHORUS. 

Never believe the heart can gloze and lie. 

PHILOCTETES. 

Divine appellants prompting me to speak 

I do beUeve. Mortality, too weak. 

Could not support unhelj^'d these gyves, these 

chains ; 
Much less exult and triumph in these pains ; 
These motions of the spirit cannot err, 



PHILOCTETES AT LEMNOS. 59 

This barren crag is not my sepulchre. 

The gods reserve me for some act of worth 

Ere my regenerate dust returns to earth. 

Before me lies the world and therewithal 

Its princely firstlings, chief and principal ; 

Its fortunes rais'd amidst the galaxy ; 

Its captaincy and rule and primacy ; 

Its chief dom of grave minds, heroic souls, 

And treasures lieap'd upon its dazzling goals. 

The Future points to her victorious fields, 

To Fortune hedg'd about with spears and shields, 

Squadrons and squares and congregated swords, 

Submissive as the falcon midst its lords ; 

To Power entliron'd upon an eminence, 

To which men look with fear and reverence ; 

A station next the gods, to whom is given 

Sway over sun and moon and earth and heaven ; 

Whose joy it is to rule. — to rule, foresee, 

And govern all things in tranquillity ; 

Keeping the times of men and calendars 

Of the four seasons and the punctual stars. 

CHORUS. 

Who on a sparkling world all life and light 
Need spur and goad himself? AVho need in- 
cite 
His blood with fierce incentives, or apply 
A fillip to the immortal mind ? 



60 PHILOCTETES AT LEMNOS. 

PHILOCTETES. 

Ay, Ay ! 
Action has power upon life's iron heart 
To mould and fashion it with stubborn art : 
Yea, thought throws dust upon the jubilant face, 
The round and gloss of youth and manly grace, 
Where action spreads an amaranthme bloom 
And lends us all the heart of bride and groom. 
So much old Chiron taught me in my youth. 
With pious words of wisdom and of truth ; 
Inflam'd my breast with thoughts of fame, by 

which 
Mortals are highest rais'd, most prais'd, and rich 
In honor and respect, and blaz'd abroad ; 
Taught me my strength to use it like a god. 
Enough there are who in a freak of fear 
Hide in a shallow cloud and stop the ear : 
What is it men should fear ? — the worst is death ; 
The common doom of all things drawing breath ; 
The babe has suffer'd it, weak womankind. 
To Styx and th' dark stream's cavernous damps 

resigned. 
Nay, death in evil times shall seem no bane 
Most welcome sometimes in excessive pain ; 
The most desired of gods, and oft by me 
Invok'd ere now in sad sincerity ; 
Prompted thereto by the extremest grief, 



PHILOCTETES AT LEMNOS. 61 

The salve of all my sores and sure relief. 

Yea, pain is the last evil ; if intense 

Intolerable ; brooking no defense 

By patience, courage, or philosophy ; 

Finds in the stoutest some infirmity. 

Yet vile it is to drone thro' life, — to creep 

Inglorious to the grave, — to rest, to sleep, 

Like tatter'd trophies in an ancient hall. 

Or idle weapons rusting on the wall. 

Ay, what are men whom mutual zeal and love 

Of action, valor, fame, have ceased to move ; 

On whom the giant's robe of ancient times 

Flings loose its purple fleck'd with modern 

crimes ; 
The shape alone surviving from their sires 
And the slow cooling of ancestral fires ; 
On whom the mighty invitations of this life, 
Its voices, visions, and victorious strife, 
Its valors to auspicious fortunes wed, 
Unheeded fall, like sods upon the dead ! 
They but achieve the bliss of kine and sheep 
Who sleep and wake and still are half asleep. 
Who hoard and store themselves till thievish Time 
Pilfer their treasure and deflow'r their prime. 



Q2 THE GRAND CANON. 



THE GRAND CANON OF THE COLO 
RADO RIVER. 

" He cutteth out rivers among the rocks." — Job. 



The harmonies of this unfathomable world, — 
The unimaginable music of the spheres, — 
Flow thro' the universe with all the notes 
Of mystery and terror in their tones. 
The mighty Being burdens every star 
With perplex'd music, awful harmonies, 
Whose echo is the voice of winds and seas, 
The noise of torrents and the sounding fall 
Of ice cliffs in the cold and silent Alps. 
So night by night the solemn harmony 
Of nature, chaunted to the spiritual ear. 
Flows thro' the depths of thought, tells how it 

past 
By desert plains and valleys terrible. 
Old lava floods and scoriae acres scurf 'd 
With sulphur, dross of ore and mineral scum. 
High up on sombre Etna's ruined sides : 
By Krakatoa, and the earthquake peaks 



THE GKAND CANNON. 63 

Of topmost Chili, seen and heard far off. 
At night, by seamen plying from the cape : 
By polar oceans justling with huge bergs 
And icy sea crags, quarried from the cliffs 
That hang like spectres round the gleaming 

shores, 
In the weird gloaming of an Arctic night. 

II. 

Such desolations and strange scenes of death 

Might breed an awful doubt to stand in thought 

Like giants in the twilight of a world. 

Like a bold painter, for the picturesque 

In undiscover'd lands a traveler, 

Have I pursued the beautiful, and sought 

The great scarr'd visions of the antique earth ; 

Upon the desert's wither'd face I learn'd 

To trace the fading features of the Past ; 

And slejDt among its ruins desolate, 

Its rigid deserts thick with upright rocks 

Which rose in unimaginable forms 

Rear'd by the Tiger God of glowing Fire ; 

Travers'd by wild ravines in whose bright depths 

Tumultuous rivers glittered silently 

Beneath the midnight stars and nomad moon. 

The secret inmost dale of pathless woods 

Is not to me a solitary spot ; 

The peaceful fellowsliij) of aged trees 



64 THE GEAND CANON. 

To me has been a pleasure, and I love 

Upon a hush'd midsummer night to haunt 

The ancient pinewoods when the moonbeams 

slant 
Thro' their immense and sombre colonnades, 
In silence wrapped and trancelike quietness, 
As if some Merlin of the Forest wrought 
A stillness round them, save what odorous winds 
Sigh fitfully in dreams, and stir the dews, 
Troubling the dusky giants in their sleep. 
And at the death of dim autumnal days 
Religiously I seek their columned aisles 
By sweet and solemn visions tenanted ; 
What time the bright and speechless sun de- 
scends 
With slow unwilling steps the western sky, 
And burns upon the threshold of the night, 
A fiery meteor with flashing hair ; 
Leaving his once serene domain the prey 
Of darkness and the wreck of wandering fires, 
As fallen kings, dethron'd and driven forth 
Desert their doomed and blazing capitals ; 
Fusing the solid bulk of monstrous clouds. 
That glow and burn and stretched like smoulder- 
ing coals. 
Fringe the nocturnal woods with gloomy flame. 



THE GRAND CANON. 65 

III. 
Eternal Nature, " Mother of Form and Fear," 
At dusk, at midnlglit, I have question'd thee, 
Dumb Mother, eloquent with earnest eyes, — 
When thro' the fragrant gloom thy face immense 
Loora'd in the clouds, with awful indistinctness : 
Among the mountains of the world my feet 
Have moved beside the footprints of thy 

power ; — 
The awful ruins of the first of days 
Around me I beheld, — the crags and peaks 
Of many a formidable hill which stood 
Of old en\dron'd with volcanian fire. 
Which the eternal lichen years have made 
The robber eagle's cold, unchanging haunt ; 
Which now in their unbroken quietness 
Reflect from ages the tranquillity 
That stiU inhabits the vast universe : 
Whether in icy immortality 
They glitter in the lightnings of the morn, 
Sheath'd in perpetual snow of perfect sheen ; 
Or naked, bare, — masses of sullen rock. 
They rise above a sea of stunted pines. 
Whence many an avalanche of shatter'd stone 
Descends, now stationary, motionless ; 
Vast floods of ruin loosen'd from the sky. 
All seems eternal now and peaceful there, 



66 THE GRAND CANON. 

And the incredible high Powers that dwelt, 
In vastness and in light, among their peaks 
Have vanish'd like the lightning from the sky 
From their imperishable awful thrones. 
Where insects and faint butterflies dare wave 
The thinnest texture of ethereal wings. 
Aye, in the inmost fane of former brightness : 
Where puny man may climb with toil and pain, 
And dare adventure liis frail limbs and life 
In the high places of primeval gods. 
The solemn harmony of Nature rolls 
Forever round those scarp'd and barren hills 
And thro' the vales ; O may my studied song, 
Some echo, some faint cadence, some slight tone, 
Win from that mighty sea of melody, 
And the stretch'd scrutiny of my rapt mind ; 
Some feeble accent, faint and far away, — 
That it may snatch a mortal utterance thus 
And murmur of the ocean of the world ; 
Like distant breathings of a seaborn shell 
Still haunted by the sound of winds and tides, — 
The mimic music of the universe. 

lY. 

Lo ! what a ruin, broad and terrible 
And bright, the silent cataracts of time 
Wrought here uiDon the texture of the earth ; 
Exposing visibly the hollow shell 



THE GRAND CANON. 67 

And rocky frame of a primeval world, 

In bony nakedness as if a sea 

Withdrawn should leave its ancient basin bare. 

Mysterious tides of sleep and death flow here, 

Thro' these still chasms flow, not here confused 

With the creative energies of life, 

But almost to the sense made audible 

In the tense silence of the wilderness, 

A faint attrition round the crumbling rocks, 

Glutting the viewless caves with voiceless streams. 

From their colossal monuments around 

The awful phantoms of ten thousand years 

Look down in mockery of human power. 

Domes, temples, pyramids, — dark gulfs between 

And stony vales, unfathomable deeps, — 

Rise here in hugest mimicry of Art 

And walls magnificent of looming rock ; 

Their naked desolation and decay 

Wrapp'd in pure color, — an ethereal veil 

Upon their crags, which Ruin itself has wrought 

In noble forms, Olympian, fair and large, 

Proportion'd to the calm desire of gods. 

In the simplicity of placid power. 

Strange scene of death, where vast destruction 

takes 
Creative force, and builds enormous works ; 
Naked and stript, save where some tortur'd 

cedar 



68 THE GRAND CANON. 

Grasps with convulsive roots the dizzy edge 
In terror, leaning forth, and seems to gaze 
Far down with horror into the vast depths. 

V. 

Thus thou, mysterious Chasm, thou hast lain 

Unnumber'd ages hid ; around thee spread 

"Wide deserts, pathless woods, dark continents, 

Unguess'd by the old gazing Intellect, 

Yet the rude savage, taciturn and wild, 

In ignorant fear and superstitious awe, 

Heard thy invisible torrents and the voice 

Of subterranean and tormented streams, 

Woven in legends by the painted braves 

And witchlike squaws around a smouldering 

brand. 
Imagination, kindling as she flies 
From peak to peak, from crag to crag, in vain 
Lights up thy features with her feeble ray, 
Wrapped in a dizzy trance where myriad shapes, 
Like shadows, shades of the material world. 
Wonders and visions, ruins and desolations, 
Peer dimly on the brain and dimly fade ; 
Mingling the vast, the terrible, the bright, 
Glimpses of desert wastes and burning sands, 
The nakedness of the unfountain'd moon, 
The fall of mighty rivers and the moan 



THE GKAND CANON. 69 

Of midnight oceans at their endless task, 
Foaming in vain around terrestrial shores. 

VI. 

Methinks a dreadful journey I did take 

In the abyss, between the Thunder Crags. 

Rain on ruin hung above and cliffs 

Whose heads among the clouds stood fearfully ; 

Naked and scarr'd and rude ; their gloomy 

brows 
Held high together over the dim gulf, 
Touching their giant crags and jutting horns. 
At night the distant and declining sun, 
Haunting the clouds with his expiring rays, 
Shot forth his beams in anger ere he sank 
Behind the serried hills ; the sombre cliffs, 
Tall pinnacles, and rough-hewn obelisks, 
Flush'd with unearthly and inconstant fires ; 
While Darkness, stealing from the fallen sun, 
Crept forth to feed upon the tender light, 
And batten on the gleam of dying day : 
But soon the stars rekindled the dark sky, 
In numbers like the j3igeons that return 
At dusk, from distant fields and groves, 
With thunder of their multitudinous wings, 
In myriads to their immemorial pines. 
Then all those haggard heights and gloomy gulfs 
And indistinguishable floods, were swiftly cross'd 



70 THE GRAXD CANON. 

By the white spirit of the wandering moon ; 
Whose soul look'd coldly down from her bright 

path, 
Amid the clusters of her meteors, — 
Like the scared image of a lady pale 
Awaken'd from dark dreams to gaze upon 
The awful spectre of an ancient wrong. 

VII. 

Like marble crags upon Pentelicus, 

The wild and water - worn and moon - blanch'd 

cliffs 
Lifted their silent countenances bright 
Kound the tormented stream that raged below, 
A legion of wild billows lifted fierce, 
Each like a vulture leaving his flat perch 
But chain'd to earth and swiftly falling back, 
Only to spring again more fiercely forth. 
Except for the torrent gnawing at its heart, 
In silence broken by its waves alone, 
Lay all that mighty wilderness asleej). 
Ghastly and rude and bare and desolate. 
Brightening the dark skirts of a sombre cloud, 
Far ran the moon along the infinite sky. 
Hastening to her echpse ; while nature slept 
In tranced stillness strange and ominous. 
Anon the thunder rais'd a solemn voice 
In gloomy menace to the sullen earth ; 



THE GEAND CANON. 71 

Then came a giant brood of venom'd clouds 
Herded by the dark genii of the storm, 
And roll'd and tumbled by the gloomy winds ; 
The lightning like a crooked vein of fire 
Fled thro' the depth and abysm of the night, — 
Wliile many a cliff with dreadful countenance 
Look'd forth unmov'd from the unnatural sky. 
All night the tempest raged, nor ceased 
Until the fiery sun arose and glared 
Upon its sullen rear with angry eye, 
Where in the dreary west it brooded low, 
Drifting before the sunbeams and fresh gales, 
In cloudy hills on the horizon piled, — 
With its decaying cliffs and toppling crags. 
Decrepit whirlwinds and old wither'd walls. 
So all day long the burning sun pursued 
The ruin'd form of the old dying storm. 
As a harsh master with vindictive force 
Urges his gloomy cattle o'er the plain. 
Scattering them onward with a ruthless brand ; 
Tho' their unwieldly hulks propell'd along 
By insufficient fires and brutish minds 
With no effectual speed plod on before. 



72 NAPOLEON IN RUSSIA 



NAPOLEON IN RUSSIA. 

A POWERFUL empire rush'd to violent death 
With pomp, with splendor, and with might, 

Enamour'd of one victor's Delian wreath 
And dazzled by a meteor's light. 

Victorious France with clustering laurel crown'd 
And dazed by glory's glittering show, 

Strode to the conquest of a world and found 
A sepulchre of untrod snow. 

The sound and rumor of the menaced war 
Fill'd Europe like an echoing flood, 

RoU'd to the gates of Moscow where the Czar 
Call'd round him liis wild Cossack brood. 

Around the Niemen's wild and distant banks 
A thousand ensigns proudly stream'd ; 

A hundred legions stood in serried ranks, 
Their wrinkled fronts furrow'd and seam'd 

By all the thunders of the continent, 
Since first the monarchs over-bold, 



NAPOLEON IN EUSSIA. 73 

Round France, a struggling Titan blood besprent, 
Array'd the might of kingdoms old : 

Warriors who forced the Turks to drop their 
shields 

While forty centuries look'd down ; 
Who earlier trod the Belisarian fields 

Like Goths who won the Caesar's crown. 

Auxiliar Europe follow'd Caesar's star ; 

So chain' d, up to the Capitol, 
Augustus, yok'd to his triumphal car, 

Dragged the Sigambri and the Gaul. 

Twice batter'd Austria her legions lent, 
A haughty bride whose frigid vows, 

Before her country's altar, coldly blent 
The Corsican with her proud House. 

Italia her Calabrian conscripts sent. 

Once more in her peninsula story. 
Like white Briseis in Achilles' tent. 

The ravish'd prize of warlike glory. 

Proud Prussia veil'd her hatred in her breast 

To serve a cold and alien king, — 
Her fierceness humbled like the falcon's crest 

Beneath the eagle's shadowing wing. 



74 NAPOLEON IN RUSSIA. 

Led like a cheetah to the hunting field, 
Fierce Poland sought her ancient foe ; 

Eager to strike, beneath the brazen shield 
Of Theseus, a revengeful blow. 

His chin upon his breast, with marble brow. 

The despot rode amid the ranks ; 
All round him Nature smiled, from field and 
bough, 

From stream and brier and blooming banks. 

Above his head an eagle soar'd and wheel'd, 

The child of nature's cruel laws. 
Let eagles still be eagles, who would yield 

The sceptre to their hooked claws. 

The flatter'd chief whom humbled Europe fear'd, 
On him the giant wreath and gown 

Of Caesar fitted ill, almost appear'd 
A tragic actor's robe and crown. 

The Roman full ten cubits vaster stood 

Than he, who never could attain 
The first bald Caesar's breadth and magnitude ; 

Half charlatan, half Charlemagne : 

Altho' beneath his eye of cold command 
All Euroi3e seeni'd to quail and gasp ; 



NAPOLEON IN RUSSIA. 75 

While kings received their sceptres from his 
hand, 
And Fate seem'd strangled in his grasp. 

The meteor light that dazzled France dazed him ; 

Too long he smiff 'd the incense up ; 
His thirst he could not quench, tho' to the brim 

Thrice Fortune fill'd her golden cup. 

The hero who seem'd cast in antique mould, 
Whom Paris welcom'd like a bride. 

Became the despot, politic and cold, 
And grounded in colossal pride. 

And yet that marble mind had not yet lost 

All its original charm and grace ; 
Beauty and power, aggrandized at such cost, 

Yet clung to that despotic face. 

Thro' carnage he would ride to lawless sway, 
Tho' savage Nature shriek' d in wrath ; 

Tho' burning towns and hamlets mark'd his way, 
And myriads rotted in his path. 

Grim Nature round the lurid landscape saw 
Her trampled fields of wheat and corn, 

Her harvest trodden into wretched straw. 
Her ruin'd gardens stript and torn. 



76 NAPOLEON IN EUSSIA. 

Great Nature, mother of the Russian race, 
Saw Moscow burn and Smolensk razed ; 

She like a Memphian image rear'd her face 
Beyond the flat illimitable waste, 

Like the colossal vSphinx whose form appears 

Far off at dusk to Arab bands, 
Scarred by six thousand unimagin'd years. 

Across the lone and level sands. 

Deep scorn upon her brooding spirit fell 
And darkness, like the shades that lie 

Upon some wide o'ershadow'd stream and tell 
A cloud has crept into the sky. 

She laugh'd with the vast laughter of the gods, 

A laughter huge and terrible, — 
Until the rain shook down upon the sods 

And turn'd to hailstones as it fell ; 

Until the leaves dropp'd wither'd from the trees ; 

Till the bare woods clash'd in the sky, 
And the black waves of the Boristhenes 

Shook into crystals icily ; 

Until the snowflakes flutter'd from the cloud 
On wood and hill and endless plain ; 

Muffling beneath a cold white glittering shroud 
The mounds and hillocks of the slain, 



NAPOLEON IN RUSSIA. 77 

The shatter'd myriads lock'd in the embrace 
Of death, the broken wheels and hehns, — 

Strew'd like the relics of a fallen race 
In Thebes' or Mempliis' desert realms. 

Swept on and tortured by the pangs of hell, 

The gloom of an immense despair 
Upon the host of the invaders fell ; 

The brow of youth was cleft with care, 

The young, leaning their foreheads to their guns, 
Blew out their brains beside the road ; 

The harden'd fought each other like the sons 
Of Belial, urged by one fell goad. 

By troops and rows they sank ; their hollow eyes, 
Beneath thick clots of matted hair, 

Burned hotly in their dying agonies, 
Bright with the fierceness of despair. 

Earth knows them not forever, they are sped ; 

Inwrapt in blackest shades of night ; 
The viewless spirits of the mighty dead 

Fill her ten-fold with joy and might. 



78 HYMN OF NATURE. 



HYMN OF NATURE. 

I SPRANG to life with deep voic'd savage thunder ; 

Mine the perpetual, unpolluted flame 
That feeds the heart of earth in caverns under 

Her huge and hollow hills of fearful fame : 
Hecla and ^tna and the vast Peruvian chain, — 

With frozen fiery streams and furrow'd 
cheeks ; 
Brought forth by me in agony and pain, — 

Fire-girt, frost-bound, imperishable peaks, 

Under which my molten ocean 

Flows with an incessant motion. 

I heap with embers the inviolate hearth ; 

My light, as in a mirror, the blue noon 
Makes visible, and the illumin'd earth, 

The fiery sun and pale complexion'd moon. 
At my eternal heat and seminal glow. 

Like an old witch wife over a magic fire, 
With veins collaps'd and blood-streams thick and 
slow, — 

Humanity renews her youth's desire ; 

The daemon I, from whose fierce breath 

She flies as from the angel Death. 



HYMN OF NATURE. 79 

With seasonable warmth the tender shoots 

I tempt, when from the mould bright heads 
are thrust, 
In early spring; and warm the down-sheath'd 
roots 
Beneath the wintry earth's cold frozen crust. 
Pavilion'd in the setting sun, I robe 

The seas in gold, and the enkindled skies 
Are fiU'd with my bright presence, like the 
globe 
Of some great gem with flame of mingled dyes. 
I blend the hues of all bright flowers, — 
Of insects' wings and rainbow showers. 

I brew the fluid, swift, invisible, 

That bears report upon its rapid streams ; — 
Mercurial messenger whose magic si:)ell 

Fills the attentive mind with many dreams ; 
With whose explosive light the heavens are 
shaken. 

Like hoary ocean to its utmost deep, 
When with huge whirlpools the gigantic Kraken 

Uj)rises from his immemorial sleep ; 

Like some new-born volcanic isle 

Lifting vast seas for many a mile. 

I track the swift clouds to their secret lair, 
And speed o'er the blue sea the far white 
sails ; 



80 HYMN OF NATURE. 

With sweet winds medicine the torpid air, 

And cool earth's daedal shores with sea-born 
gales ; 

I waft the pine germs to their farthest bowers ; 
And breathing over fragrant verdurous leas, 

I bring the pollen to the lovesick flowers, 
Stealing the wonted office of the bees ; 
And wake the hidden harmony of things 
With touches from my murmuring wings. 

My si^irit moaneth when the brooding storm, 

In ominous quiet, gathers up its might ; 
Before the fierce Typhoon my shadowy form 

Flies screaming thro' the dim and dreadful 
night ; 
And as I suck sweet scents from herb and tree, 

I breathe and scatter from my tainted breath, 
Foul from dead growths, corrupt mortality, — 

The seeds of pestilence and death ; 

Whose unclean fruit are corpses cold, 

Decaying in the graveyard mould. 

I wake the flowers with baths of morning dew, — 
And feed the ice-cold urns of rocky brooks 

In dark green glens among the mountains blue ; 
From me damp meadows borrow their bright 
looks ; 

I gather the warm rains from the dim deep. 



HTMN OF NATURE. 81 

Which carrier clouds bear swiftly to the land ; 
Thro' secret caverns underground I creep 
And plant the Oasis in desert sand, 
Islands of green the camel loves, — 
Cold bubbling wells and gracile groves. 

I guard the giant floods and keep them strong, 
By whose eternal motion and pure streams 

The Earth sustains herself in power and song. 
And life in every cleft and crevice teems ; 

I guide the ebbing tides to their abyss 

And bring them back with safety to the shore, 

Tho' their obedient waters boil and hiss, 

And beat upon the stubborn stones, and roar 
As if the rock were ribs of oak 
Which they in sport have often broke. 

Yet once I loos'd their chains when wild and 
lone, 

From pole to pole, the liberated flood, 
Where no bright sail or peaky islet shone, — 

Rolled its unbroken billows unwithstood. 
Divine my strength, yet gentler offices 

Invite me now, — to foster and renew, — 
With the collected power of mighty seas, 

And with the tiny drops of rain and dew ; 

With many soft and still mutations, 

And milder floods and inundations. 



82 HYMN OF NATUKE. 

In emerald caverns, crystalline and bright, 
I guard the whirling axle of the sphere, 

Beneath an arch of faint magnetic light ; 
There icy peaks like diamond uprear, 

In the calm glitter of an arctic night, 

Their beaming pinnacles ; and far and near, 

Gleam the eternal snow-fields pure and bright. 
No dissonant voices vex me, but I hear 
The strong young icebergs roar and leap, 
With thunder to the shaken deep. 

Each year, on silent pinions issuing forth, 

I guide the biting wind and killing frost, 
Southward from their dark regions at the north. 

Fair shines the realm by those bright spirits 
crost. 
Gleaming with gold and purple and vermilion, 

Like blazoned canopies and banners flung 
Bound some great king's imperial pavilion ; 

Or later like a glittering mirror hung 

Facing the fiery sun at noon, 

Or in the splendor of the moon. 



SHIFTING FREIGHT AT MIDNIGHT. 83 



SHIFTING FREIGHT AT MIDNIGHT. 

Panting, pu'ffing, to and fro, 
In the valley far below, 
Where the moonlit waters glow, 

Is a sound like moving Dragons : 
'Tis the earthquake-footed steeds, 
Stallions of invention's breeds. 
At their midnight toils ; the cry 
Of their restless energy. 

And the rumble of their wagons. 

Hearken to the distant beat 

Of their fiery hearts and feet, — 

Cries and shrieks and groanings meet 

For monsters cursed with toil and pain ; 
Or nocturnal beasts of blood 
In the jungle and the wood, 
Roaring, snorting, as they drink 
At the moonlit river's brink, 

Trampling down the reeds and cane. 

Lo ! each smoky charioteer 
Leads his charger without fear, 
In the darkness crashing near, 



84 SHIFTING FREIGHT AT MIDNIGHT. 

Brazen, docile, breathing flame. 
No curb profane or iron checks 
Need embrace their mighty necks, 
No sharp spur do they require, 
Fed by the Promethean fire, — 

Spirits powerful and tame. 

See ! like meteors they flare, 
Rushing to their midnight lair, 
With a trail like fiery hair, 

And one Cyclops eyeball bright ; 
Spurning with their iron hoofs 
River arches whose dim roofs 
Tremble with their speed and thunder 
As the night is riven asunder 

By the fury of their flight. 

Clanging warning bells they roll, 
Like a tocsin of the soul 
Messengers of evil toll, 

Spurring thro' a sleeping town ; 
Wailing to the midnight air 
Like a spirit in despair. 
Or an eagle whose fierce screams 
Float upon the tempest's streams. 

From his eyrie drifting down. 

In what cavern of the night. 
By the furnace' fiery light, — 



SHIFTING FKEIGHT AT MIDNIGHT. 85 

By what shapes or men of might 

Shall these iron steeds be stall'd ? 
Its dark roof thick smoke enshrouds, 
And rolling vapor like dim clouds ; 
Underneath the gloom is shot 
With beams of brightness burning hot, 
From red embers iron wall'd. 

In the fiery heat and glow 
Rills of burning ashes flow ; 
Shadowy figures to and fro 

Thro' the flickering firelight flit : 
Cloudy wreaths of scalding steam 
Curl aloft, and brasses gleam ; 
Drawn from each tormented breast 
The eager fires, at last they rest, 

Till anew fierce fires are lit. 

There like sleepers in a tomb, 
When the light has left the gloom, 
Their gigantic statues loom, 

After their wild swift career. 
Closed their Cyclops eye in sleep, 
Wrapped in slumber long and deep, 
Cold, immovable, they stand, 
A colossal, mail-clad band, — 

Left by the last charioteer. 



86 EPIGRAMS. 



EPIGRAMS. 

All bones of all men Earth receives 
In her broad lap with fallen leaves, 
But when her debt to death is paid 
Where shall her giant limbs be laid ? 



The feuds of Ghibelline and Guelph 
Divide the suffrage of the world, 

But courage draws men to itself 
Whatever pennant is unfurl'd. 



Her fate is fixed by laws of blood, 
In gentle actions to express 

The finer sense of womanhood, 
A woman's tenderness. 



Unto the rich all tribute bear, 

But naught they bring to banish care. 



EPIGRAMS. 87 



When simple tastes begin to tire 
The grinning Devil stirs his fire. 



If one labor late and early 
For the world's behoof, 

Not a few, unkind and surly, 
May bid him stand aloof. 



I 

1 



LATER SONNETS. 



LATER SONNETS. 



LA PEROUSE. 

Across the vast of ocean, on what shore 

Are strewn the wrecks of thy disastrous ships, 

Blown when the moon and stars were in eclipse 

Beyond the stormy CajDO and seen no more ? 

For cruel Fate swung to a gloomy door, 

And Fame her finger press'd upon her lips, 

And Death conceal'd them where the cold sea 

dips 
Down to the Pole and deserts wild and frore. 
Among- the roots of ocean, Mystery 
Keach'd her long arms and seiz'd them, or the 

tide 
Yet gnaws their ribs upon some chill seaside ; 
Or frozen stiff with all their crews they lie 
Where the keen stars, frost-bitten in the sky. 
Gleam brightly over ice-floes weird and wide. 



92 LATER SONNETS. 



FIGURES IN THE RAIN. 

Without these tavern windows, dim and drear, 
While I sit sipping from this rosy glass, 
The people throng, a husy rainy mass, — 
To me, '• a looker on in Vienna here," 
Within their gates a stranger, they appear 
No more than insects in among the grass. 
Which to and fro upon their errands pass, 
A sight of little meaning, darkly clear. 
The dreams that have their dwelling in this cup 
More real seem than each embodied Soul, 
Obscurely seen, an undeciphered scroll. 
Frail as grey mists before the sun is up ; — 
Nay, I myself, who watch and think and sup. 
Seem but a ghost, fresh from old Charon's toll. 



LATER SONNETS. 93 



" THE CHRONICLE OF WASTED TIME." 

Gone is the glamour of the antique world 
When Earth was young ; when the Hesperldes 
Lay somewhere cinctur'd by the purple seas, 
Appled with golden fruit and spiced and 

pearled, — .. 
Where now the huge Atlantic wave Is hurl'd ; 
When Jason voyaged for the Fleece of Gold, 
And for the Trojan war, in Argos old, 
The fleets of Greece their fluttering sails unfurl' d. 
Yet still of ancient suns the embalmed Hght 
Is prison'd fair, in books or parchment roll, 
Color'd from that illuminated scroll 
Which rapt Mnemosyne with pencil bright 
Emblazon'd with the hues of old Romance, 
The tinctur'd gold and sable tints of chance. 



94 LATER SONNETS. 



SOLITUDE. 

There is a solitude where naught intrudes, 

In the high Alps, — (unless, tho' rarely, creep 

The Ibex hunters up the icy steep) ; 

Among the wrecks of Time's unresting feuds ; 

Forums and fanes where Desolation broods ; 

The bleaching bones of cities, buried deep 

In desert sands : Realms of the Dead where sleep 

Innumerable voiceless multitudes. 

Such scenes some pleasing memories allow, 

Huge hills, rock gaiarded, frowning brow to 

brow, — 
Footprints of mighty Empires overthrown, — 
Some thoughts sublime, — some link 'twixt then 

and now : 
But in the crowded streets, depress'd, un- 

knoAvn, — 
'T is there the lonely Soul seems most alone. 



LATER SONNETS. 95 



WISHED-FOR CHANGE. 

" Otium bello f uriosa Thrace." 

For ease sighs he who, in Atlantic seas 
Driven by tempests, seeks with anxious eye 
Orion and Arcturus in the sky ; 
For ease sighs war-worn Telamon, — for ease 
In Tempe or the wave-wash'd Cyclades ; 
But vex'd with the dull couch of Luxury, 
And ill at rest, for Pontic seas we sigh, 
For action and rude toils, unwont to please. 
Then with high hopes we hail storms drawing 

near, 
View signs unmoved that fright the augurs pale, 
The staring entrails of ill-omen'd rams : 
Then lighter seem the shield and heavy spear, 
The formidable casque and frock of mail. 
Than silks, or the soft woven fleece of lambs. 



96 LATER SONNETS. 



THE INVITATION. 

Now that the frost has strlpt the leafless tree, — 
Wachusett stands white in deep fallen snow, — 
Oh, where on cheerless evenings wilt thou go, 
To talk and sup and, from ambition free, 
Aloof from fickle Fortune's fretful sea, 
Forget the fabulous thought and fame and gold, 
The barren ways and chill, the wintry wold, 
The naked season's bleak sterility ? 
No pomp is mine, yet Beauty shall not fail 
To lend a charm if here thy feet incline ; 
With books, the choicest few in rich attire, — 
In gold and crimson from some famous sale ; 
A snow-white cloth, with Cahfornian wine ; 
Some silver heirlooms and a hickory fire. 



LATER SONNETS. 97 



EMBATTLED DAYS. 

Not crown'd with blossoms of the vernal year, 
And garlands woven for a festival, 
This Hour salutes the Hours eventual, 
But plumed and helmeted with sword and spear, 
Hauberk and frock of mail and warlike gear. 
To-day at least is arm'd for victory, 
Thron'd high and dais'd in the galaxy, 
Of any rose-crown'd hour the laurel'd peer. 
Behold her chariot waits, the harness'd yoke 
Paw the void air and arch their shining necks, 
Impatient, fretting vainly the loose checks. 
What hand shall trammel them ? What mortal 

stroke 
Strike from her car the eager charioteer, 
Hurl'd on by plunging steeds in full career ? 



98 LATER SONNETS. 



"MALIGN VICISSITUDE." 

The dreams that haunt the bottom of this bowl, 

The mystic brood of wine and revery 

Which are my love yet half mine enemy, 

Enchantresses and beggars of my soul, 

To-day seem not more brief than Hadrian's mole 

Or Karnac's temple. Mutability 

Is writ in changing sky and flowing sea, 

In rocks and trees and rivers as they roll. 

Libations to the Muse I pour and drink : 

She comes and tlii'ills my heart with vain regret ; 

For all her song seems breathing of decay, 

Of time in whose deep ocean all things sink, 

Of ruin'd tower and crumbling parapet, 

Of vanish'd springs and days long pass'd away. 



LATER SONNETS. 99 



TRAGIC POWER. 

Like storms that show the mountain grim and 

bare, 
Seen thro' the ragged rents of cloudy sky, 
In austere form of naked majesty. 
Each Hfted crag and peak and rocky stair, — 
So dark vicissitude and torturing care. 
The storms that round some battling Titan roll, 
Reveal the vastness of a lofty Soul 
Cross'd by the gods and struggling with despair. 
Such power adorns the rugged peaks of Mind 
On which in vain the gods hurl sleet and fire ; 
Like Samson in Philistine bonds led blind, 
Or Saturn struggling with afflictions dire, 
Prometheus chain'd upon his barren pile, 
Or Philoctetes on his desert isle. 



:100 LATER SONNETS. 



ULYSSES. 

Let Circe sup with her enchanted guests ; 
Their swords are girded up in rusty sheaves, — 
The cobwebs gather round their horsehair 

crests, — 
Their faded banners hang like yellowing leaves ; 
To lick their hands the fawning leopard crawls, 
The tawny panther from Assyrian fields ; 
Hung up at feasts and Bromian festivals 
Like blazon'd scutcheons are their brazen shields. 
Tired of the long thwarts and Ciconian wars, 
Mindful of Cyclops and his loathsome grot. 
Sloth grips them sure : me may Tartessian seas 
Wash far away beneath Iberian stars. 
Here let them loll, me may the gods allot 
The Argive ship-planks for my bed of ease. uM 



LATER SONNETS 101 



NIGHTFALL AT POTTER'S. 

Within the pines I stood and saw the Night 
Dispute with Twilight for the Day's dominions ; 
With a few flaps of its tempestuous pinions 
The storm had ceased;— each inaccessible 

height 
Flash'd with the rains; — the clouds with list- 
less might 
Hung low about the sun's funereal pyre, 
Their gloomy countenances tinged with fire, — 
Broken and barr'd with melancholy light. 
Toppling about the wet and dreary west 
Rose many a rocky peak and rugged crest ; 
With all its crags, Moat Mountain tower'd for- 

lorn, — 
Chocorua's sharp and mutilated horn, — 
While Nature's moist and all-beholding eye 
Kept watch from the remote mysterious sky. 



102 LATER SONNETS. 



A STORM IN THE MOUNTAINS. 

The vast and sombre company of clouds, 
Among the mountains brooding gloomily, 
Veiling the giant peaks in murky shrouds, — 
All day have hatched a dark conspiracy 
Against calm Nature. See ! they leave the steep, 
Their forms gigantic grown, and rolling nigher, 
With muffled thunder, menacing and deep, — 
And furtive flickering tongues of angry fire. 
Jamming the blast before them in one wave. 
As if the storm had but one mighty breath, — 
With edges torn and flying, on they rave, 
In awful beauty ; the dark vale beneath 
Is fill'd with their wild fury, -^ wide around 
A whirling chasm, — dark, disturbed, profound. 



LATER SONNETS. 103 



POINT SUBLIME, COLORADO CANON. 

I. 

Raixbow-hued, ragged, wild, and terrible, 

The giant gulf lies open at my feet ; 

A wilderness of ruins that repeat 

All architectural forms, — pinnacle 

And pyramid and tower ; the rocky shell 

And ribs of some old crumbled world, replete 

With horror, scorched by an intolerable heat : — 

Some agony of Nature here befell ! 

The ponderous Earth alone in some fierce throe, 

Convulsion, paroxysm, passion fit, — 

Has force to shatter thus ! Nay, far below, 

The petty cause of the enormous pit, 

Lost, buried in the gloom itself hath made, 

The river burrows in eternal shade. 



II. 

The power that built above the cloudy skies 
Andes and Caucasus with heads of snow. 
Wrought here with equal strengtli in earth below, 
And dug th' abyss by giant contraries ; 



104 LATER SONNETS. 

Opening the mouths of monstrous cavities, 
Whose depths profound are shut in walls which 

throw 
Perpetual gloom ; driving the rocks to flow 
Like Avater to the seas whence they did rise. 
Nature here turned upon herself with beak 
And claw, and tore her breast in blind despair ; 
Her very entrails lie expos'd and bare, 
The stony structure of a world antique, 
Sculptur'd in mighty forms of dome and peak, 
UpUfted far below in liquid air. 



LATER SONNETS. 105 



MOUNTAIN LANDSCAPE. 

Once more the sunset's melancholy flame 
Burns on the ridges of this mountain'd world ; 
Watched by the dying storm : no smoke upcurl'd 
Tells here of hearth and home ; no time can 

tame 
These rugged hills, whose forms are still the 

same, 
Tho' bleaker grown, as when they were uphurl'd 
When Fire a reddening canopy unfurl'd 
O'er these wild glens, which ages since became 
A haunt of suUen peace. Yet awful still 
Is each immense and desolated hill ; 
More wild the sunset gleams thro' these dark 

bowers ; 
More awful rolls the storm thro' these stern 

dales. 
Round crags and peaks and thunder-riven vales, 
The ruin'd thrones and seats of vanish'd Powers. 



106 LATER SONNETS. 



MOONRISE ON THE RIVER. 

Last night beside the river's dewy marge, 
Afloat among the rushes tall and rank, 
The broad-leav'd water plants and lilies dank, — 
I watch'd the moon uplifting, round and large, 
The great scarr'd vision of her shining targe, 
In ancient beauty, 'hove a grassy bank 
Whose crest bore ferns which ever rose and sank 
With the fresh wind that shook the stream's mi- 
rage. 
Long time I saw their sable plumes eclipse 
The patient brightness of its placid disk. 
As the cold zephyr toss'd their riotous tops, 
One way together sway'd their feathery tips, — 
While whippoorwills with music loud and brisk 
Shrill'd their repeated song of several stops. 



LATER SONNETS. 107 



THE FIRST THAW IN SPRING. 

Bexeath the south wind and the sun's warm ray- 
Earth slowly uncongeals ; the aged snow 
In dissolution falls ; the loud brooks flow 
Thro' hoUow'd ice caves pitted with decay ; 
A dripping moisture wraps the humid day ; 
The once white fields their dusky lining show, 
In dreary spots. How large looks yonder crow 
Upon the elm tree ere he flits away. 
The rainy lights shine thro' the naked trees, 
The cold damp woods soak'd by the thawing 

breeze ; 
Along the miry road the wheel-ruts gleam, 
And slushy pools ; the shallow wayside stream 
Sings in its muddy channel, and on high 
The clouds float lazily across the sky. 



108 LATER SONNETS. 



THE DAY'S MESSAGE. 

No piety, no human power, can stay- 
Time's rapid flight, that to eternity 
Flows on, like rivulets that seek the sea. 
Whether one scatter them like chaff, or weigh 
Each moment miserly, the last relay 
Is quickly spent ; like sand in the hour-glass 
The years slip by, like shows that quickly pass 
Seen from express trains in the blaze of day. 
Since it is sure to-morrow we must die, 
Eat thou and drink ; the rose is not less fair 
Because its time is brief, which scarce can bear 
Some careless touch, or casual breeze of fate ; 
Is to itself as sweet as tho' its date 
With sun and moon and changeless stars might 
vie. 



LATER SONNETS- 109 



THE SOUL'S DECADENCE. 

The hero on tlie throne of Cyrus sits, 

In purple tunic aping Persian kings ; 

The fiery soul that soar'd at Austerlitz 

Trails on the Russian ground his broken wings, 

Crush'd by the very vastness of his fate ; 

The skin-clad zealot and fierce anchorite 

Becomes the full-faced priest of later date, 

The Cardinal succeeds the cenobite. 

So when the flatter'd spirit of Truth decays, 

The cause for which the martyr died becomes 

The selfish creed of comfortable homes. 

This is the curse that crowns victorious days — 

Success is overwhelmed with apathy, 

The victor swallow'd up in victory. 



110 LATER SONNETS. 



LIFE IN THE WORLD. 

The ragged birthmarks of the ancient hills, 

The wreck'd volcano hung with Pele's hair, 

The sullen thunder-stricken woods and rills. 

The terror brooding in the silent air ; 

The track of great storms trav^eling in the night, 

The weltering chaos ever lurking near 

The little household gods and candle-hght, — 

These fill the hollows of the heart with fear. 

Yet Life, like a torch shaken in the blast, 

Tho' trembling in the whirls and vortices, 

Barns brightly in its socket to the last ; 

Immortal as the shining Pleiades, 

Or Aldebaran, that eternal gem 

In night's tiara and proud diadem. 



LATER SONNETS. HI 



PROMETHEUS. 

Eternax torment and eternal youth 
Keep always open wide my upturn'd eyes ; 
Pale Death, turn'd back by the mad Furies' cries, 
Stands off and looks at me with pity and ruth. 
The tyrant's vengeance like a serpent's tooth 
Tears up my heart, and ghastly shapes arise 
From the abyss to mock my agonies, 
Press home the monstrous and enormous truth. 
The vast, blank, pitiless skies beat down by 

day, — 
Night with her shining stars no slumber brings ; 
While terror its eternal vigil keeps. 
Sits hearkening for the rush of powerful wings, 
What time, wheeling among the frozen steeps, 
Heaven's winged hound smells out his helpless 

prey. 



iiliir 

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